On The Run

We all have our steady, normal routines, but sometimes we have to get used to being on the run.

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2. Part 1

 I have never been anything special, or at least I have never thought of myself that way. The only thing I had to make myself feel good were the facts that I learned how to read completely on my own at the tender age of five and also that I learned foreign languages through movies and music. Other than those things I was a completely normal child.

 Ok, maybe those were not the only things that made me different from the other kids at my age. I always had the belief that I was always easily spotted on the playground amongst other kids. That was for the simple reason that I was never good at games. I guess that is one of the few qualities that I still have from that time. I always look different from others when I try to play whatever game it is, no matter the kind of it. 

 This thing of me not being good at games affected my early social life. It was hard for me to find people to play with when it came to traditional games. I was not always easily accepted on playgrounds. Soon I grew up to have a strong dislike towards them as social places. For me, they were places where it would be better if I was alone.

 I always hated it when the children would occupy all of the swings. I felt like they were mine. In there was the only spot where I would feel comfortable. I adored just being on the air, running away from the ground. This is the second quality that has stayed with me after all this time. I still like to go in there sometimes and just meditate in a way. 

 Fast forward a few more years and now you see me starting school and I guess this was one of the key moments that led to all of this to happen. I was a happy child who finally had the opportunity to use what I learned way before and yes show off a little, because what 6 years old doesn't like doing that. 

 I still remember my first few days of school. Again, I would be standing out from the rest. I guess the teachers didn't take notice of this as they were more preoccupied with those who had to be dragged away from their parents, through the doors as they were putting up real protests in a simple language only using tears and screams. Then there were those who couldn't contain the excitement of being there. Small little things with black and white school uniforms giggling with joy. And then there was me. It looked as if I was not there. I was neither crying or showing immense signs of happiness. I was just there looking for a place at the back of the class ready for all of them to be quiet so I could have some rest. I thought it was a hard work having to stand all those emotions.

 Then with the time, tables turned around. Those who were crying in the first days were now those who were the best and the happiest ones, well they just couldn't stand that place anymore. Since the beginning, I had a lot of pressure from my mother who urged me to get the best grades possible as everyone from her side was really smart. There was no way I was going to be allowed to be different in there too. I couldn't allow it to myself. 

 However in school it was a completely different thing. Teachers always had something to complain about which in most cases would be my handwriting. Up to this day I still don't understand why they made me sit for hours in the same class even after lesson time was over as a punishment for something that was never on my hand. I still can't forget how I couldn't wait to run away from that place.

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